“You’re wrong,” he said, taking a fortifying sip, even as Huntly’s predictions wrought havoc on him. He couldn’t be correct. To feel anything for her still would prove him thrice times a fool. He knew better than to feel anything for a schemer like Bridget.
His friend studied him and then shook his head sadly. “I’m right and I suspect, one day soon, you’ll realize as much.”
The thin thread of Vail’s control snapped. He slammed his drink down on a scalloped table, sloshing liquid over the sides of the glass. “She is a bloody thief,” he shouted. Those words, if overheard by one of his faithless servants, were enough to ruin…all. “She came here to steal from me,” he said in quieter tones. “You expect that I should care for such a person?”
“I orchestrated a meeting with my wife with the intentions of breaking her heart and marrying her in a game of revenge. Do you think she should love such a person?” he countered.
A muscle jumped at the corner of Vail’s eye. “It is different.”
Some of the tension eased in Huntly’s face and he snorted. “Because we’ve been friends since we were boys and you knew me longer? Why, you were even willing to help me.”
He flinched. Yes, but that had been driven by a lifelong loyalty and also a sense that he could have talked his friend out of the cruel scheme he’d crafted.
“You can’t pardon me so freely for my actions against Justina and not at least try and understand what drove your wife.” Huntly’s disapproval hung like a cloud over the room.
“She needed funds,” he said tiredly, swiping a hand over his face.
The other man nodded. “Yes. You said as much.” He held Vail’s gaze. “Though, I suspect understanding why she required those funds is as important.”
A knock sounded at the door and they looked up.
Gavin ducked his head inside. “V… Oh, hello, Huntly,” he said with a wave for the duke, as though they’d just met for the first time that day.
Huntly inclined his head. “Lodge,” he greeted.
Gavin looked back. “The carriage has been readied. Edward instructed me to tell you that Her Ladyship is finalizing her documents and will soon be aboard the carriage.”
Nodding his thanks, Vail sent him along. “I thank you for your support,” he said after he and Huntly were again alone. “But you’re wrong in this.”
“Perhaps.” His friend smiled sadly. “But what if I’m correct?”
Bridget had never allowed herself dreams of a wedding day because she’d known the future that awaited her. Her parents had been abundantly clear and her sister decidedly cruel in reminding her frequently that the only fate for a deaf, marked lady was that of a spinster.
If she had, however, taken time to craft make-believes of what this moment would one day be, it certainly never would have been marked by the icy cold and silence of this day. She stared blankly down at Vail’s elegant, black scrawled letters, and the empty spaces alongside them left for her mark.
The vicar cleared his throat—for a third time. “My lady?” he urged, casting a desperate glance over to the gentleman who stood at her side.
Not Vail. Not her husband.
Rather, his brother.
“Mrs… My lady,” he swiftly amended, and though his urging was devoid of Vail’s earlier hatred, neither was there warmth there, either. “Your signature is required.”
“In multiple spots,” the clergyman needlessly pointed out. “As soon as you add your name, my lady, it is done.”
It was done, long, long ago. She’d always realized that. Vail had only just come to that understanding. She traced a trembling finger over the slight curve at the top of the V of his name. But it needn’t be over for him. Even if he’d made this decision with his business and his siblings’ best interest in mind, he’d one day come to hate her—all the more. He’d wake up and find himself trapped in a loveless marriage to a woman he hated, when there was surely a woman out there deserving of his love.
The vicar coughed loudly. Drawing in a breath, Bridget collected the pen and, with an unsteady grip, added her name beside his.
A short while later, it was done. She watched numbly as Vicar Alsop sprinkled some pounce upon her name.
“Come, my lady,” Edward murmured at her side. “Vail instructed me to escort you to his carriage.”
Managing a wooden nod, she fell into step beside him. She searched her mind for something to say to this other man whom she’d betrayed with her lies and purpose here. And anticipated a stinging rebuke from him.
Then, he proved himself more honorable than she deserved, for instead of recrimination, he offered her nothing but silence. After Gavin had helped her into her cloak, Edward escorted her out the doors to the waiting carriage. Ever the gentleman, he offered his hand to help her up.
She’d one foot inside when at last he spoke. “Vail cared for you.”
Cared. One letter added to that word which so markedly changed it from something beautiful into something that gutted her. “I never meant to hurt him,” she said softly. His features twisted into a reflection of his disgust. “Edward,” she called, staying him as he made to go. “If I’d another choice, I would have never come here. I would have lived my life and certainly never brought pain to Vail.”
He gave no outward indication that he’d heard. Her new brother-in-law remained like a sentry in wait. Settling inside the red velvet squabs of Vail’s expensive carriage, she sat back, waiting.
A moment later, a large figure drew himself inside the entrance and claimed the seat opposite her. Vail’s broad frame shrank the space of the otherwise large conveyance. As the door closed and the carriage rocked forward, air was sparse between them.
Given the fact that she’d still not sorted through what to do with her brother’s threats and plans for her and Virgil, that is all that should matter and all she should focus on. And yet, every part of her was trained on the man across from her—a stranger for the way he now looked at her.
How was one to be around a person who so hated one? How was she to spend any of her days with this man who now stared at her as though she were an object he’d removed from the sole of his boot?
“What happens now?” she asked Vail. “What happens after Lord Marlborough’s?” He’d mentioned sending her away. Mayhap that was her hope. That she and Virgil could disappear into one of her husband’s obscure properties until Bridget sorted through the next pieces of her life with Virgil and Nettie. But then you’ll still have to explain to him about your… Her mind spun.
“What happens now?” He laid his arms along the back of his seat. “I’ll meet with Marlborough. You will entertain his daughters. Then, you’ll need to be presented to Polite Society, properly, as my wife.”
Presented to Society? Bridget scrambled forward to the edge of her seat and her knees brushed his, and heat radiated through her skirts from that brief contact. “But…but…” His plans went against everything she’d worked through in her mind. “I cannot.” Her palms grew moist within the confines of her gloves. To face the ton and their censure. Theirs was a world she’d been born to but never belonged to.
“That is part of our arrangement.”
“That you forced me to agree to,” she bit out.
“Regardless, those are the terms struck. I’ll not have a scandal attached to our marriage, given Catriona will be making her debut.”
Why…why…he expected her to immerse herself in this world. She’d naively believed this upcoming meeting with the earl was to be the extent of their relationship—for now. But this? “Are you trying to humiliate me?” she asked tightly. “Is that the ultimate revenge you seek?”
His body turned to granite on the bench opposite her as he abandoned his casual repose. He dropped his hands on his knees and leaned forward. She gasped at the alacrity of that movement. “Let us be clear, madam,” he seethed. “This was never a game. Not from our first meeting in my office to the night I discovered you in your act of treachery. Nor to the m
oment I demanded your hand in marriage. My regard for you…” Their chests rose and fell in a synchronic rhythm. “W-was also real, whereas you offered me nothing but lies from the start.”
The carriage rocked to a sudden, jarring halt that sent her pitching forward.
Vail instantly caught her. He lingered his hands upon her, his hot touch piercing the fabric of her garments and burning her with the same desire she’d known in his arms yesterday. Back when he’d covered her with his body and moved within her, touching her to the core.
His driver pulled the door open and Vail instantly released her. Jumping out, he reached back and helped hand her down. He proffered his arm. “My lady,” he murmured, with the same affable smile he’d worn days earlier. Did I merely imagine that warmth? Surely one who could don that easy grin was capable of the same artifice she herself had been rightly accused of. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes: to the steely warning there. It was his eyes. His eyes contained all the depth of his loathing for her.
“Smile,” he commanded through his clenched teeth. “Come, madam, a liar such as you can surely do better than that,” he said to her false effort.
I hate this. I hate everything about this. But Vail, however, had been correct. For the treachery she’d intended, this was something small she might do.
He guided her up the front steps and, before he could knock, the door was thrown open. They’d been expected, then. Bridget shrugged out of her cloak and gave her thanks to the footman who collected the muslin garment. “This way, if you will,” the young butler encouraged, and led her and Vail through the marble halls that all stood a proud symbol of the earl’s wealth.
As she walked at Vail’s side, she gazed vacantly about at the heavy gold paintings and gilded hall tables with their Sevres-style celeste vases. Of all she’d wanted in life, this material extravagance had never been it. She’d wanted security and safety and… A family. Seemingly simple gifts, but the most precious ones. All these years, Archibald had threatened the life she’d made for herself with Virgil…
And I continue to let him…
Because she’d largely believed him invincible. As a marquess, even an impoverished one, he was a man of power and she? She was a deaf spinster. Or that is how she’d viewed herself. She’d only seen her own limitations. Vail had opened her eyes to her own self-worth; he’d shown her that her skill and wits were not simply a means to earn a handful of coins to feed her brother’s vices but rather a testament to her intelligence.
Even the earl’s request that she be here stood as proof. Some of the agony that had weighted her chest since Vail had discovered her in his Portrait Room, abated, leaving in its place strength.
She’d made herself a victim. She’d hidden herself away and allowed Archibald to hold sway over her every step. Why, she’d even agreed to commit a theft and had simply justified it in her head as an act that must be carried out. Self-loathing coated her tongue like acid. Her earlier thoughts when Vail had held her with affection in the guest room whispered forward. All these years she’d bemoaned the lack of family or friend to turn a burden over to. She’d even envied Vail’s siblings for having an elder brother to rescue them. I don’t want to be rescued… Her fingers clenched and unclenched reflexively. Not in this. To turn this burden over to Vail, a man who’d have hate shining in his eyes whenever he looked at her, would mark her just as weak. With a sense of absolute rightness about what she must do, she brought her shoulders back.
The butler brought them to a stop outside a beautifully arched doorway with stained glass windows carved into the center. He lifted the iron hook at the top and knocked once.
“Let them in,” the earl bellowed and, hiding the curvature of his lips, the butler admitted them.
All the air escaped Bridget on a swift exhalation and she pressed her hands to her heart. She’d never considered there could be anything more magnificent than Vail’s collections, but this? Walls must have been taken down and the nearby townhouse purchased to expand this master library. In reverent awe, she tipped her head back and took in the shelving that ran from the floor to the mural that spanned the ceiling. “It is magnificent,” she whispered. Feeling Vail’s stare, she glanced over. His features, however, remained a careful mask. Did she merely imagine the regret that passed between them?
“Lord Chilton.” A clear, pleasing voice slashed across that momentary connection. “It is a pleasure to see you again.” The tall, slender beauty with midnight curls expertly arranged and kindly green eyes swept over, hands outstretched.
“Lady Clementina,” he returned with his usual charm. “And it is a pleasure, always.”
At that show of warmth, jealousy twisted low in her belly, like a venomous serpent poised to strike.
Her husband and Lord Marlborough’s daughter spoke with such ease, it only highlighted all the parts she did not know about her husband. Their low murmurings impossible for her ears to detect, Bridget hovered, feeling like an interloper, despising the statuesque woman. A woman who’d be a perfect hostess, cultured, and clever. The kind of lady Vail Basingstoke should have married. It was wrong and petty but then that was why the sin of envy found one within the spheres of hell.
“May I present my wife?” His wife. She didn’t feel like anything more than an albatross about his neck. “Bridget, Lady Chilton. Bridget, this is the Earl of Marlborough’s daughter, Lady Clementina.”
Bridget stiffened, as the stunning woman faced her. She touched her eyes briefly upon that hated crescent birthmark, but that same warmth transferred over from the lady’s earlier exchange with Vail. “You are the woman I’ve heard so much about, my lady.” Had that come from any other member of the ton it would have been a thinly veiled insult. There was such kindness in Lady Clementina’s eyes that it made it impossible to hate her.
“She’s the one,” the earl said with a grunt.
“It says much about the one who can not only command my father’s respect, but also bring him…” She tipped her head at Vail. “…up to scratch.”
Up to scratch. This woman saw the myth Vail hoped the world would. The only place he had truly wished to send her was to the Devil. Unable to formulate the expected witty rejoinder, she offered a false smile. “It is a pleasure,” she said softly.
“Come,” the earl’s daughter looped her arm through Bridget’s. “So my blustery father might show your husband the collection he’s been trying to for—” Lady Clementina cast a questioning look over in Vail’s direction. A twinkle lit her eyes and the knots inside twisted all the more.
“Two years,” he supplied.
How was it possible for this day to have gone from bad to worse, and now horrendous? Mayhap it was the hell of her world crumpling about her. Or mayhap it was the uncertainty of Virgil’s future but Bridget fought back the urge to cry.
“My father indicated you’ve a love of literature. Shall we take a turn about the room, my lady?”
Out the door. The only place Bridget wished to go was out that beautiful arched door, and then on to Lambeth for her son, and off to Leeds so she could forget how she’d caused her own heartbreak. “That would be lovely,” she managed, instead.
They proceeded to walk the perimeter of the expansive room. From the corner of her eye, Bridget followed Vail as he joined the earl at a leather, winged-chair. Resting his palms along the arms of that seat, he propped his ankle over his opposite knee. So sanguine he was, when Bridget had always struggled to come to terms with her differences.
“My father doesn’t like anybody,” the other woman confessed. “Quite despised Lord Chilton, too.”
How could anyone hate such a gentleman? A man who’d risen up and been handed a title, but who chose to build a fortune with his own efforts?
“My father fancied a match between us,” Lady Clementina confided.
Bridget stumbled, missing a step. The other woman helped steady her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, concern lacing her tone. “I’ve startled you.”
“No. No. Not at all.” Wounded me. Twisted the knife all the more, mayhap. Startled had been the least of what Lord Marlborough’s daughter had done.
“I expected you knew,” the other woman persisted.
“I don’t know anything about London Society.” Her tone came out sharper than she intended and she curled her toes into the soles of her slippers. Bridget sighed. “Forgive me. I don’t know anything of Polite Society,” she repeated. “Much of my life has been away in the country…until now.” Until my brother forced me to abandon every comfort I’d made for myself. When I should have fought, forged my own path, just like Vail.
“You are fortunate then,” Lady Clementina murmured. “I quite despise it all, you know.” She wrinkled her nose. “All that is, except the books. Though I suspect if one had a large enough estate house one might have all the books…” Her words trailed off. “My father wanted me to make a match with Lord Chilton, my lady,” she said…for a second time.
A cinch squeezed at Bridget’s already broken heart, draining the blood from that useless organ.
“Lord Chilton, however, did not want me.”
It did not escape her notice that the other woman failed to speak of her own wishes.
“His heart was not engaged.” Lady Clementina brought them to a stop at the opposite end of the hall, and surveyed her father and Vail engrossed in their discussion. “My father said he was mad for not wishing a union between our families, said anyone who’d not wed his daughter didn’t deserve his books. Until he met you.”
Bridget forced her gaze away from her husband, meeting the other woman’s direct stare.
“Both of them. My father saw your understanding of literature and antique books and pardoned Lord Chilton.” She smiled. “Which is why we’re now here.”
Bridget looked out once more.
Which is why they were now here.
Chapter 19
Vail’s meeting had been a success. Nor had Bridget known as much from any words he’d shared, or because of a tangible excitement, but rather because of the smile and handshake he’d offered Lord Marlborough. That had been the last smile she’d seen from him that day, and also the last sight of him.
Beguiled by a Baron (The Heart of a Duke Book 14) Page 22